Familiarity Breeds Contentment
by Lorena Snape
Summary: Late night wanderings, love vs. lust, and an atypical pairing comprise my first HP fic. Complete in one chapter.


The characters of the Harry Potter universe are the property of J. K. Rowling, and I am only borrowing them. I promise to return them (more or less intact) when I'm finished playing with them.  
  
Thanks to valleyforge for the beta. (Farscape fans, check out her fics!)  
  
:-)  
  
Familiarity Breeds Contentment  
  
Late at night, when I'm feeling restless, when I long for some excitement and I feel the urge to be free, I quietly slip away from the young woman lying beside me. Away from her warm embrace, I watch her softly sleep as I contemplate my actions. Should I stay with her in the warm comfort of our bed, or venture forth into the cold night air to meet another, giving in to my desires?  
  
I linger only for a moment before leaving, my decision already made for me. I am no Gryffindor, and faithfulness is simply not in my nature. It never has been, nor will it ever be, I fear. Sad to say, but I have always sought to fulfill my reckless passions rather than live in safety.  
  
Silently I slip out from the dorm and make my way down to the common room, passing through the portrait hole undetected; the only witness to my nightly excursions is the fat lady in pink, who is sound asleep.  
  
Traversing the darkened corridors and temperamental staircases, I feel the exhilaration that comes from being truly free. My mistress does not bind me; on the contrary, she allows me this freedom. She knows my heart and my mind, and understands my needs. I know she worries about me from time to time and may not condone my affairs (yes, there have been several), but she accepts them for what they are, knowing I will always return to her.  
  
Thoughts of my mistress are soon banished as I see the one I desire this night. I am at once bewitched and entranced. Her fiery eyes catch mine as she descends the stair to the dungeons. Helpless against her beauty and her grace, I've no choice but to follow. She knows without even looking that I will seek her out. We do not speak of it, nor do we plan these meetings, but still I can always find her. I have known her for some time now, and I know all her usual haunts; I know where she will be and when. I can sense her subtle scent in the places she has passed by, and in my heart, in my very skin, I can feel her presence. She will never know the power she holds over me, or that out of all my affairs she is the most exciting creature I have ever had.  
  
I find her in an empty classroom and steal behind her for a gentle nuzzle. But rather than returning my affection, I am met with an angry refusal as she lashes out at me. Her reaction is not what I had expected, but then again, I should know by now that I can never truly know what to expect from her. Her wild temperament and unpredictability are a part of what draws me to her. I try to talk to her and convince her to allow me this pleasure, but to no avail. She is in one of her moods and there will be no placating her this night.  
  
Slowly, regrettably, I leave the dungeons alone for a brief walk outside to clear my senses. Why do I do this? "Once bitten, twice shy" as the muggles say, but I will never learn, nor do I want to. I know that this primal need and my surrender to it are a part of what I am. I will seek her out at another time, and hope to find her more receptive.  
  
The air outside is cold and refreshing, but I soon grow chilled. My desire is once again for a warm and comfortable bed, for loving arms and my mistress' warm breath upon my back. And so I return to Gryffindor tower, to the kind and caring girl, Hermione. Slipping back into our bed, I receive a warm embrace and her gentle hand strokes my hair.  
  
"So, Mrs. Norris give you the devil again?" she teases.  
  
How does she know these things? Some innate sense perhaps, that comes from being my familiar, or something more? Whatever the case, she is always forgiving. I feel her sigh in the darkness as she scratches behind my ears, eliciting a contented purr.  
  
"Well, at least you're getting some exercise," she yawns, snuggling me closer. "Good night, Crookshanks."  
  
The bed is soft and I am warm. Her embrace and the feel of her heartbeat lull me to sleep. Good night, Hermione. 


End file.
